Strong and sober times of old
Walking, creeping towards inner time
Small cravings across the land
Wondering, thinking till time has come
Feelings amongst those of old
Haunted now and structured future
Scent of ranched tyranny
Fill the air
Touch of gold left behind
Growing pains and slender bliss
Crying lower beneath the skin
Tears pouring, listening to all was done
Nothing comes or goes
Nothing seems to change
All is still the same
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